


Yellow Ropes

by Mithen



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Kayfabe Compliant, Moving On, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:58:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King of Cuteville returns to Full Sail to grace them with his presence one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Ropes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salamandelbrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandelbrot/gifts).



Tyler Breeze shuddered at the dismally familiar sight outside his car window: ugly strip malls and shabby suburban blight as far as the eye could see. Central Florida, his least favourite place on earth, the place he had _wasted_ years of his life. Thank God that time was over at last. Thank God he only had to be here for the Royal Rumble, just a brief moment in his shining career. He'd be gone again in a few days, shake the dust of this loser town off his gorgeous boots once more.

The sign for Full Sail loomed in front of him, “NXT Taping Tonight” on the marquee. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned into the parking lot.

Summer Rae had looked at him like he was crazy when he said he might stop by Full Sail. “Why would you ever want to go back there?” she had said. “You're on the main roster now, sweetheart.”

“I just--” It was surprisingly hard to explain, somehow. “The call up came so suddenly, you know? I found out, then I wrestled Adam Rose that night, then I left. I didn't get a chance to…to rub their faces in it, you know? All those Full Sail uggos were losing the best thing they'd ever have, and they didn't even know it. Owens at least got to tell them what he really thought of them. I just...disappeared. I deserve closure, Sum-Sum.”

He remembered her shrug as he started across the parking lot. She didn't understand, but that was okay, she didn't need to. No one understood Tyler, and he liked it that way.

He slipped in the back, avoiding the crowd that was already milling outside--he didn't know why, they didn't know he'd be there, after all. Why were people still showing up to this misbegotten mudhole? The security guard raised an eyebrow at him, but let him in. The door clicked shut behind him and Tyler was back in the Full Sail arena.

The corridor was cool and dark, and Tyler took a moment to let his eyes adjust, feeling the familiar concrete walls closing around him again. How long had he been trapped here? How many times had he fought his heart out here, proving himself over and over again to an ungrateful crowd? The nightmare was over at last, he reminded himself as he walked down the hall. He was the superstar he was always meant to be.

He emerged into the arena to the sound of the ring being set up, people bustling everywhere. “Look where you're going!” someone snapped as they almost walked into him. “You could have--hey! Tyler!”

Tyler blinked up into Bull Dempsey’s beaming face and for one terrible second couldn't think of a thing to say.

“It's me! Bull!” Bull grinned. “Don't tell me you've forgotten me already.”

Tyler assembled a sneer. “As if I could forget your ugly mug,” he said.

Bull chuckled as if Tyler had said something nice. “I thought you'd be eager to wipe this place from your memories now that you've made the big leagues,” he said. “So how is it? Is it awesome?”

“It's--yeah, actually it is,” said Tyler.

“I watch all your matches,” said Bull. “Someday I'll be watching WrestleMania and telling the newbies, ‘I wrestled him before he was great!’”

“I've always been great,” Tyler said without thinking. “And what, have you finally come to your senses and given up on being on the main roster?”

Bull shrugged. “Nah, but...I like it here, man. It's a good place. It's a good _life_.” He punched Tyler lightly on the shoulder; Tyler stared at the spot his paw had touched, appalled. “I figure I can wait for you and Owens to make it possible for us gorgeous folks to shine on the main roster.”

“Oh, ugh,” said Tyler, not even sure where to start with how wrong that sentence was.

“Breeze!” Bull grimaced over Tyler’s shoulder at the sound of Robbie Brookside’s yell and made himself scarce. “If you’re just going to dawdle around, get over here and help with the ring, slacker!”

Tyler considered telling Brookside he wasn’t a minion he could order around anymore. He considered informing Brookside that _on the main roster_ the superstars didn’t have to do menial work. He looked over and saw Bayley and Carmella putting the framework together; they waved to him.

He shrugged and went over. After all, it was difficult to gloat properly from across the room.

But as it turned out he didn’t have much time to gloat. Bayley gave him a huge hug, and she and Carmella peppered him with questions about life on the main roster: was filming Up Up Down Down as fun as it looked? (“Do I _look_ like I’m having fun?” “Actually, yes.”) Had he gotten to meet the Rock yet? (“Sure, he admired my work.”) Was Becky okay--she looked sad, was she all right? (shrug). Tyler wrinkled his nose at the sight of the old yellow ring ropes, the symbol of the NXT ring. Thank God he’d finally traded them in for the white ropes of the main roster. People came and went, chattering, and the rhythm of it all wound around Tyler like an old song as he put the pieces together, checking the equipment, making everything ready for the show.

The show he wasn’t booked for.

The ring was assembled and the audience was starting to filter into the arena as Tyler wandered around backstage. They’d moved some things around. The lighting setup was a little different. He wasn’t part of this show. He wasn’t part of this. 

He shook his head so hard he felt his ponytail almost start to come loose. “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, look who’s back in town,” said a familiar ugly voice, and Tyler sighed loudly and turned to glare at the man who’d grabbed a folding chair to turn around backwards and straddle, grinning at Tyler.

“Well if it isn’t Sami Zayn,” Tyler sneered. “And Finn Balor with him. How nice. I’ve missed you guys _so_ much while I’ve been fighting _real_ superstars.”

Sami threw back his head and laughed that annoying laugh that made idiots smile. 

“We’ve missed you too, Tyler,” said Finn. Tyler squinted at him, picking apart his tone for sarcasm and irony and finding none. It was altogether possible that these two morons weren’t capable of anything so sophisticated.

“I haven’t _really_ missed you,” he felt compelled to point out in case they had missed it.

“We know,” Sami said. 

“Thanks for helping put the ring together,” said Finn. “Will you be around tonight? Maybe you can come out and cut a promo.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Watching me get booed by the cretins of Full Sail one last time.”

Finn chuckled. “As if.”

“They’d pop like crazy for you, you idiotic peacock,” said Sami.

Tyler found himself squinting bemusedly at them again and forced himself to roll his eyes instead. “I’d like the chance to give them a piece of my mind, sure,” he said.

“Well, it might work out,” said Finn, standing up and patting Tyler on the shoulder. “We should have time tonight.”

They started to walk off, but Sami turned back to look at Tyler. “Oh,” he added, “give my regards to Kevin when you see him again.” He smiled, and it was a much less pleasant smile than earlier. 

Then he and Finn Balor walked off. The former champ and the current champ.

Two people who had held a championship belt that Tyler never, ever would.

He wrinkled his nose angrily, resisting the temptation to kick the chair Finn had been sitting in. So what? So he never got a chance to hold some random bit of leather and metal. Bigger things awaited him. Better things. Greater things and greater glory. The only reason he had ever even wanted the title was to get onto the main roster, and now he was there without ever having won it. Unlike those other uggos, he didn’t need some stupid title with a giant dumb “X” on it to prove that he belonged on the main roster.

“I _don’t_!”

“You don’t what?”

Tyler whirled to find Corey Graves standing there, looking scrungy and lean and more well-dressed than he had a right to.

“I don’t-- I don’t believe they brought in Ranallo instead of calling you up to do Smackdown,” Tyler said. “At least you appreciated greatness when you saw it.”

Corey chuckled. “There’s no rush,” he said. 

“You can’t mean that,” Tyler said. “ _No rush_ to get out of this misbegotten place, where your talents are just _rotting_ and you’re _stagnating_ and losing _years of your life_ \--”

“I’m not _stagnating,_ ” Corey said, his voice sharp. “I’m improving. Evolving. I’ll be on the main roster when I’m good and ready for it.” He shrugged and his tone turned wry. “Besides, I don’t really want to go up until Lawler retires. Can you imagine having to sit next to him every single show?”

Tyler shuddered. “Good point. Summer suffers enough having to sit nearby for one match. The man has no appreciation for true gorgeousness.”

“Unlike me,” said Corey with a wry head-tilt, and Tyler knew that he’d just been bemoaning Sami and Finn’s lack of sarcasm, but suddenly he found he missed their straightforwardness.

“Unlike...you, yes,” he said dubiously.

Corey clapped him on the back. “Well, I’ll be up there soon enough,” he said. “Just keep up the good work and I’ll be calling your matches again in no time.” Matt Bloom’s voice boomed out, calling Corey’s name, and Corey grimaced. “Duty calls, gotta run. Heard you say you might cut a promo--that’d be great, just talk to Regal about it and I’m sure he’ll fit you in. Maybe we can catch up some more after.”

“Yeah,” said Tyler. “Sure.”

 _Just talk to Regal about it._ The phrase seemed to echo in Tyler’s head as he watched Corey walk away. That was all he had to do, walk into William Regal’s office and demand a chance to address Full Sail. Regal would call him “flower” and they’d have a battle of sneers, but eventually Regal would give in--because he kind of had to now that Tyler was a superstar--and Tyler would walk out here and stand in the ring and say--

Say that--

He would say--

As sudden as an enzuigiri to the head, he knew he couldn’t stay here a moment longer, couldn’t bear to be here a moment longer. He bolted for the door, the parking lot reeling in front of him. He didn’t want to talk to William Regal, he didn’t want to stand in that ring and look out at the Full Sail audience, and he sure as _hell_ didn’t want to watch other people wrestle in the NXT ring.

He found himself sitting in his car, staring blankly out the windshield, seeing nothing. It didn’t make any _sense_. He finally had everything he had ever wanted--he was on the main roster, he was winning the respect of some of the greatest names in the business. He even let Xavier Woods and the New Day drag him into their shenanigans now and then, and it...didn’t suck, hanging out with them. It wasn’t just satisfying, life on the main roster was _fun_. The competition, the spotlight, the thrill: he loved it with every fiber of his being.

So why was he sitting with his forehead on the steering wheel, shaking? Maybe he felt bad for the Full Sail audience, not getting a sense of closure. Not realizing that their last glimpse of gorgeousness had been their _last_ glimpse of gorgeousness. They’d probably been buying tickets to every taping since then, hoping he would show up once more. How terrible they’d feel when they realized they’d missed out tonight on one last chance to bask in his radiant--himness. He was obviously wrung with that thing that Sami had referred to before. What was it? Oh yes, empathy. He had heard the word before, but until Sami explained it to him he had thought it was a cologne. Anyway, yes, empathy. That was probably why he felt so terrible. They hadn’t had a chance to see him again, to thank him for bringing some beauty to Full Sail, and then to let him go.

His phone buzzed, then buzzed again, insistently. Tyler wiped his eyes and glanced at it to see a text from Corey Graves:

_Dude, where the fuck did you go? Finn and Sami talked to Regal, he’s heading to the ring to introduce you right now. Get your ass to Gorilla!_

Tyler scrambled out of his car and started to run across the parking lot toward Full Sail, his heart pounding. He burst through the doors, knowing he was sweaty and his eyes red, his hair disheveled. He reached Gorilla position and heard Regal’s voice coming from the ring, cheerful but with an undercurrent of tension that told Tyler he’d been killing time for a while now. Bloom spoke into his headset and Regal stopped speaking for a moment, then went on:

“And so tonight I would like you all to welcome back one of NXT’s greatest stars, and one of the WWE’s most promising young talent--” The audience buzz rose sharply, and Tyler grimaced. They were obviously hoping it would be Neville, or Paige. When they heard his name they’d probably--

“Ladies and gentlemen, Tyler Breeze!”

Tyler blinked as the noise from the arena crescendoed. Not jeers, but applause. Not boos, but cheers. _What?_

A hand clapped him on the back. “Told you they’d pop for you, pretty boy,” said Sami, steering him toward the curtain. “Go on and say goodbye to them.”

He pushed Tyler through the curtain and Tyler Breeze was back in front of the Full Sail audience for the first time since his main roster debut.

He stood for a moment, blinking, and realized people were standing, clapping. For a second he didn’t know what to do, then his instincts kicked in and he strutted to the ring just as if he was in his ring gear and not jeans and a Canucks t-shirt. He vaguely registered that there were hands outstretched to him, but he ignored them--mostly because it wasn’t part of his entrance and he was too rattled to change it up now.

He got into the ring and stood up. William Regal was smiling at him--a real smile, one sweeter and sadder than Tyler had ever seen on his face before. The audience was standing, cheering.

He looked at his fingers, still locked around the ring rope. How many times had he cursed these yellow NXT ropes? How many years had he felt trapped by them, boxed in, caged and limited? And now--he looked at his hand and swallowed--now he was clinging to it as if he didn’t want to let it go.

But he had to if he was going to step forward, if he was going to move ahead. He had to.

Regal was holding the mic out to him. He saw Corey smiling and applauding from the announcer’s table. Full Sail was cheering him, giving him their blessing. He closed his eyes and simply listened for a moment, letting the sound touch him.

Letting the audience appreciate Prince Pretty one last time.

Then he opened his hand and let go.


End file.
